The Torn Dollar
by DollarBill
Summary: What drives a man to betrayal? Wesley centered with LW, some WF, and some AL
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Torn Dollar

Author: Dollar Bill (hee)

Email: Goldy05403@yahoo.com

Pairing: Lilah/Wes with hints of Wes/Fred and Lilah/Angel

Disclaimer: Sometimes called the only good part of 'Tomorrow' Wes and Lilah were never done wrong by the writers at ME, much as it pains me to admit. 

Spoilers: Major spoilers for 'Home' as well as most of S4.

A/N: My first Lilah/Wes fic. Be gentle. *g*

A/N 2: New spoiler sources say that Lilah may be back next year! Woo hoo! 

Dedication: To DG for putting those two together in the first place. Glad the man is currently enjoying unemployment but… he *did* write 'Tomorrow,' as bad as the rest of the episode was. To Alexis Denisof and Stephanie Romanov for being fantastic actors with hot, HOT chemistry. If they even THINK of giving JM AD's place in the credits… I'll kill Joss. I really will. Most importantly to Laura (aka. Salix Ardens) for reading and betaing this fic, despite the fact that she now thinks my head is a very scary place. If you like wonderful Willow/Tara fic, go check her out!

Wesley crouched down to light the final candle. It was on his night table by his double bed, surrounded by the soft glow of the other candles. His small room, on floor 3 Section G of Wolfram & Hart, was covered in the glow of softly licking flames. The room smelled faintly of lilies and daffodils. Soft music played in the background and a bottle of champagne lay waiting on the kitchen table. 

He sat down heavily on the bed and looked wearily at his watch. He had five minutes. She was coming at nine… and lawyers were nothing but punctual.

For not the first time that night he wondered just what the hell he was doing. Whatever the fuck his relationship with Lilah was… it wasn't romantic. There was no poetry, no soft music, and certainly no gift of champagne lying on the table.

He and Lilah played a game. It was always to see who would break first, whose stony countenance would crack. Let a little feeling in, a little emotion, and you lost. That was the game he played with Lilah. To give her flowers and chocolate would make him lose.

She knocked on the door. Serene, but with a loud impatience all the same. Lilah was a woman that knew what she wanted and how to get it. She never lost.

But then… Wesley knew that he was the first thing she'd ever learned to care about. And maybe, maybe that changed something. 

Though, now that she was more or less a walking corpse, their relationship was back to being a little bit greyer than Good hitting Rock Bottom and doing Evil.

He answered it slowly, knowing that she hated to be left waiting.

He opened the door, his damn eyes softening (shit) at the sight of her. She was wearing a black mini-skirt and the top buttons on her white blouse were left open. She was sultry and sexy—she was Lilah Morgan.

She took one look into the room and snorted. "Oh, Wesley. Wesley, Wesley, Wesley. You're getting attached. I knew this would happen eventually."

He regarded her stonily. "If you don't want it, turn and walk away."

Lilah pretended to ponder it for a minute. "Sounds good," she answered after a pause, turning her back.

He lunged after her, grabbing her by the arm. "Come the fuck in, Lilah

She grinned and turned slowly around to face him. "I knew the bad boy was in there somewhere. This is just never going to work if you start serenading me."

Wesley shut the door behind her, leaned against it for a minute. "This has enough trouble working, as it is."

Lilah chuckled, circling the room. "My, my, my," she said appraisingly. "You really did go all out."

Wesley blinked. "Your cold dead heart is probably warming up to it."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Gee, that was almost sweet." 

Wesley snorted, moving deftly over to the champagne bottle and popping the cork with quick hands. He took a long drink from the end of the bottle, inwardly cursing the sudden nervousness he felt, before passing it to Lilah. "Ladies first."

She grinned and took the bottle and wine glass that he handed her. She perched herself on the table, elegantly cradling the glass between two painted fingernails. "So what's up with this, Wes?"

He practically grabbed at the champagne bottle when she handed it back his way. He fumbled nervously at his collar. Far away, his voice was making a reply, "I thought I'd try something different before fucking your brains out." Her question was something that he, himself, had been pondering upon getting all the romantics. Which he had, incidentally, borrowed (stole… but that was beside the point) from Angel—happiness curse or not, the vampire did know something about the art of seduction.

She had one chiselled eyebrow raised in the air, trying to figure out if she was amused or turned on by the reply. Probably some mixture of the both, Wesley supposed.  She'd once told him, or at least his head saw her tell him, that they'd never know if what they had was love. Some part of Wesley had been relieved by the statement—another part deeply regretted her loss.

Now she was back.

Glancing at the gaping outline of a closed wound on her throat, Wesley frowned. As back as one could be. And some deluded part of his brain, the same part connected to his dick no doubt, thought that maybe it was time to *try* this, whatever it was. 

He still carried a dollar bill in his pocket.

He took it out now, smoothed it down on the table that she could see it. Lilah looked at in surprise before glancing back at him. She laughed and jumped down from the table. "No. Why can't you get it through your head? You *CAN'T* save me. NOTHING can save me. I'm here because of that. You and me… you, you need someone that's ultimately good. Fred."

"This isn't about Fred," Wesley answered quickly, too quickly.

Lilah immediately picked up on it. Her eyes hardened. "Everything comes down to Fred for you, Wesley. She's perky and bright and fights the good fight. You'll never tell her that you did me for months—and enjoyed it. That you still want me, that you grieved for me when Cordelia killed me."

Wesley smiled very slowly, stalking towards her where her chest was heaving with exertion. He leaned in dangerously. "Lilah… you're almost jealous."

Her eyes flared and she slammed her champagne glass back on the table. She picked up the dollar bill, tore it in half, dropped it, and squished it with the toe of her boot. Wesley watched in dispassionate silence. "This," she said quietly. "Is what we are."

Wesley glanced at her. "You owe me a dollar." 

Lilah chuckled, looking at him approvingly. "I'm not jealous. You and Fred would never work… your real personality would eventually shine through."

Wesley felt himself getting irritated. "Don't you think," he said in a tight voice, "we've progressed past the point of petty insults? I can't faze you," Wesley smirked, his eyes letting her know that he *could* and *had* fazed her. "And you certainly can't faze me."

Lilah examined her nails, pretending that she hadn't heard a word of what he'd said. Wesley decided that was fine with him, she would answer when she deemed it appropriate. He rolled his head back and forth, stretching his neck and slowly started unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. 

Lilah watched him silently. "I do care about you," she finally admitted.

Wesley concentrated on his buttons. "I know." He looked back at her, "I just don't know how much."

She shrugged, looking off into space. "Beats me. I'm evil, remember? I can't love."

"Can't… or won't?"

"Shut up, Wesley," she snapped. "You're not my fucking shrink and don't you dare get ahead of yourself."

He sighed. "I guess we'll never know."

Lilah squinted. "What the hell are you blithering about?"

Wesley refused to answer the question. He knew that she had been there that time—before he had raised that axe over her head. He knew that she probably couldn't remember it, and that it had been some kind of image he'd dreamed up in his head. It didn't change it, though. Everything that she'd said was true. 

Lilah poured herself another glass of champagne. "Good stuff," she told him. "Nice and light—romantic."

She was making fun of him, he knew it, and he wouldn't rise to the bait. Where did that leave them? They pretended to hate each other, and they'd never know if they loved each other. He slipped his shirt off and folded it neatly and slowly to give himself more time to think. He placed it at the end of the bed and stood up, finding himself face to face with Lilah.

"What?" she smiled. "You think that you could bring me here, give me a little drink, play a little music, and I'd fall straight into your bed?"

"I think you'd fall straight into my bed if I lived out in the middle of a shit field, "Wesley answered mildly.

Lilah nodded approvingly, her fingers beginning to tease open the top of her blouse. "I think I'm beginning to really like you, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."

"Shut up, Lilah."

****

Wesley awoke sharply in the middle of the night. He turned over slowly, not in the least bit surprised to find Lilah still curled up next to him. The only time she was remotely affectionate was after sex. 

Plus, she was always tired.

He watched her a moment in fascination. Her chest didn't move up and down under the sheet, but her skin was slightly flushed and warm to his touch. A little more than a walking corpse—Wesley reflected ironically. 

Tenderly, he traced a lock of hair behind her ear and wondered, vaguely, what it would be like to be in a real relationship with Lilah Morgan. Would he ever see a warm, kind side to her? Was it possible that his love could change her into a better person?

He brooded into the quiet night before climbing silently out of the bed. He threw on his boxers and stumbled into the bathroom. Lilah never stirred—she was a sound sleeper. Always elegant, even in slumber. Wesley had never heard so much as a snore or moan pass her lips.

He stared at himself in the mirror, touching the rough stubble on his chin. He knew he could probably use a shave. He splashed some water on his face, knowing that he wouldn't go near a razor. He stared back into his face in the mirror and thought.

Wesley wondered what it would be like to watch Fred sleep for hours. It would be endlessly fascinating to him, to see her chest move up and down with her slow breathing. He wanted desperately to know whether she snored or talked in her sleep. He wanted to see her hair splayed out around her pillow, getting messier as the night wore on.

Gunn intimately knew how Fred slept. Though, whether Gunn had ever taken the time to really watch, to really learn how his lover slept was another question altogether.

Wesley walked back into the room, unsurprised to find Lilah sitting up in bed and calmly staring at him. She was unashamed at her nudity, not bothering to hide anything as she lit a cigarette. She puffed at it while staring at him.

"I've never seen you smoke before, Lilah," he remarked, leaning against the bathroom's doorway.

Her hands shook slightly as she took the cigarette out of her mouth. "I smoke when I'm dealing with a particularly gruelling case. Or after sex."

Wesley didn't miss her implication in the last sentence. After sex with people that weren't him. "I don't want that in here."

"Oh, Wesley," Lilah chastised in the smug tone that she knew drove him crazy. "After everything—still believes smoking is evil."

Wesley took three steps to the bed, tore the cigarette out of her mouth and mashed it against the wall. "I said, I didn't want that in here."

Lilah leaned back and looked him up and down, clearing admiring him. "You're pissing me off."

"Those things will…" Wesley trailed off. "Kill you," he finished, somewhat lamely.

"Yeah," Lilah acknowledged. "Amazingly, so will a little piece of wood, if jabbed at your throat. Life is short, Wes. And it sucks. Have a cigarette."

 "I'm glad you learned something from making a pact with the devil," Wesley snapped, feeling the old anger creep its way into his blood.

Lilah sighed and settled back into bed. She beckoned to him. "Still a few more hours until we have to go back to the daily grind. You could maybe… I don't know… hold me, or something."

Wesley softened a little and climbed in next to her. He gathered her up into his arms, the movement almost gentle and loving. She quickly fell asleep, clearly relaxed in his bed. He stared into the darkness wondering.

Was it love?

***

Fred smiled at him. Her face always managed to beam and look like it was bursting into full bloom. It wasn't a smirk, or a grin that was silently mocking. It was an actual smile—one that told how happy she was to see him.

"Wesley!" she said happily, quickly taking him by the arm and pulling him into her work office.

Wesley followed her, though at a much more mellowed pace. He idly observed the den that she had made for herself in the basement of Wolfram & Hart. Scientists buzzed around her, checking and testing knicknacks there and here. She stood beaming in the middle of it all, a clipboard slung around her neck as she yelled out peppy orders to her crew.

Wesley loved her.

"We're checking out this new weapon for Angel," she gushed, happily. "It can sense energy and tell the difference between bad energy and good energy."

She held up a little metal sphere with a red light in the middle of it. Wesley unconsciously took a step backward. "That's, uh, nice, Fred."

"It has different patterns for different energy. Really, really bad energy glows red, whereas medium, average energy would blink on and off."

She has no idea, Wesley thought. Of what being in the middle was. She didn't understand what the grey was. There was black and white. Good and Evil. They were opposites—nothing halfway for Fred. He loved her, but he wondered at what cost his happiness with her would create.

She was staring at him. "Wes… are you okay? You seem sullen. Well, sullener than usual, anyway."

Sullen. Was what he was sullen? Or just a man lost in the world, trying to claw his way out and not knowing where to turn? He tried to smile. "I sometimes wonder if being here, at Wolfram & Hart… if it's the right thing." Lies… all lies. He could never tell her the truth. 

Like how he had woken up that morning and Lilah had been gone. And he actually missed being able to wake up… still holding her in his arms. For a minute, he wanted, desperately, to make her breakfast. Pretend that things between them were… real.

She blinked and thought the question over. Wesley could hear the wheels going in her scientist brain head and knew that she'd never seriously considered the question before. It was like her, not questioning things. When he had made off with Connor and Justine had put him in the hospital—he had been bad to her, then. Someone Fred should pity, try to be kind to, but bad nonetheless. And now she accepted him back, without a second thought, thinking that he was good again. Thinking that he wasn't in the middle of the night taking refuge in the arms of his enemy.

"I… I don't know," she finally answered. "I feel that what we're doing here is right." She looked at him, her eyes bright and full. "I feel it in my heart, Wes. We're helping a lot of people. More than we ever could have imagined. That's worth using Wolfram & Hart for."

God… how he loved her. For her heart, for her optimism, and her unshaken faith in doing good in the world. She was everything that the human race should, and failed, to be.

He touched her hand gently and said the only thing that came to mind, "Can I make you breakfast?" 

TBC


	2. The Torn Dollar 2

Title: The Torn Dollar 2/3

Author: DollarBill

Email: goldy05403@yahoo.com

Spoilers: Again, major spoilers for 'Home' but nothing about the coming season. This is pretty AU, set sometime over the summer.

Synopsis: Wesley's confused. Because he's sexy that way *g*.

Pairings: Major W/F and A/L in this chapter. 

A/N: For the record I HATE the SLIGHT thought of Wesley/Fred (Spred 4eva!), but like or not, Wesley does love her. So that must be dealt with.

Dedication: To Laney, "theHotness" because she left such a GREAT review! I love you, Babe!

Raiting: PG-13, I suppose.

"There's a few papers here, all pretty basic. Legal documents to the company, insurance policies, union's rights. I just need you to sign them and have it ready for me at the earliest opportunity."

Angel watched Lilah's short speech with a guarded look as she dropped a pile of papers on his desk. "I'm not signing anything."

Lilah didn't look in the slightest bit phased. "They thought you might say that."

"Did they?" 

"Then they said it was up to me on how to deal with it."

Interested, Angel leaned back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not signing anything."

Lilah sighed. "Look, Angel. I've had a hard night. You and me… we've been through a lot together. A few death threats uttered here and there on both sides--it's all been very intimate. Sign the damn things and we'll be on our merry way."

"Rough night?" He asked, leaning forward. "Certainly doesn't smell that way from over here."

"I may be dead, but at least I'm getting some. Which is more than I can say for some of us."

Angel gave her a steady look. "Do you love him?"

Lilah tapped the papers impatiently. "Sign the things," she hissed. "And we can leave it at that."

"No."

"Why do you care, anyway?" Lilah bit out. "It's not like you've had any kind of interest in Wesley's well being for a long time now."

Angel didn't answer the question. He stood and moved his way to the window. "Lilah," he said in a tight voice. "I'm thankful for what you did for Connor. As a favour, I'm going to give you ten seconds to get out of my sight."

Lilah folded her arms over her chest. "Or you'll do what? Kill me? Your cheerleader already accomplished that one quite nicely."

"Didn't seem to work," Angel muttered. "Ten… nine… eight… seven…"

Lilah came up and stared out of the window beside him. "You've been out of this for a while… so I'll give you a run-down. This is all legit. These are things you need to do to run a company. If you want, you can have a lawyer check everything over. God knows, there's plenty to be found in this place."

Angel considered her for a moment. "I don't trust you, or anyone else involved with Wolfram & Hart."

Lilah barely graced him with a look, obviously not in the least bit phased by such a petty comment. "You seem to trust us enough when it's convenient. When Connor's ass is on the line. When there's another person out there that needs their soul saved. Redemption."

"Wesley's wasting his time with you."

Lilah felt the first tugs of anger. "Wesley isn't any of your fucking business."

"He works for me, that makes him my business. What he does in his private life, in *my* building is my business."

Lilah looked faintly amused. "You're so high and mighty. It's not like you've never been to a dark place, gone at it with someone on the other side. Difference is, Wesley's willing to stick around. Make a girl happy now and then."

Angel reached for his phone. "I'll have it checked out. By my people."

"Fine."

Angel turned on his speakerphone and let it ring while Lilah tapped her foot impatiently. She looked up sharply when Wesley's English voice answered. 

"What?"

Angel shot the phone an irritated glance. "Wesley, Lilah wants us to sign a formal agreement with Wolfram & Hart."

"This isn't the best time," Wesley's voice said. Angel's ears picked up on a silent giggle in the background, and he glanced at Lilah, curious to see if she heard.

Lilah had. "Fucking Fred," she said quietly.

Angel glanced at Lilah and smirked. "Bring Fred with you to look at this. I want as many eyes as possible to look these things over."

"Don't make any deal with these people, Angel. It's like giving your soul to the devil," Wesley cautioned, not sounding in the least bit worried.

"Some of us don't need to make deals to sign away our soul," Lilah snapped.

Wesley was silent. Finally, he said, "Lilah. What an unpleasant surprise, how are you?"

Angel sighed. "Still dead, and here, apparently. I want you and Fred here five minutes ago." Angel slammed the phone back down into its cradle.

Lilah kicked his desk. It rocked back into place with a dull thud. 

Angel rose his eyebrows. "Gee, I'm so sorry that Wesley hurt your feelings."

"I don't have ANY feelings!" Lilah snapped. "I'm EVIL!" She looked up sharply and considered Angel for a moment before her eyes lit up. She walked slowly towards him, "As a matter of fact… getting rid of a little pent up energy might be a good idea." 

"Tempting…" Angel backed away to the door, opened it. "But get out."

"It's not like you've never thought about it." Lilah stalked towards him. "You and me, there's always been something there. Something bubbling below the surface, a primal need. Don't tell me that you don't feel it."

"I'm not Wesley. Get out, Lilah."

For a minute she almost looked frustrated. Recovering, she sauntered to the door and got right up into his face. "I hate you."

Angel looked into her eyes. "Then get out."

Lilah took the time to tap her chin thoughtfully before slowly leaving the room.

***

Wesley hung up the phone and looked up into Fred's bright, smiling face. He felt himself smiling in return.

"Who was that?"

"Angel," Wesley answered. "He has some papers Lilah dropped off. He wants us to check them out, make sure that they're legit.

"Anything from that bitch is a lie."

Wesley didn't smile. "Yes, I imagine so."

Fred shrugged and went back to her pancakes. She dumped a huge quantity of maple syrup on her plate and shoved a forkful into her mouth. "Gunn used to make me pancakes."

My God, Wesley thought, she's actually jealous of Lilah. "Did he?"

Fred nodded. "Pancake kisses," she said with a slight laugh.

Wesley didn't find it quite so funny. She was trying to make him jealous… and was succeeding. He glanced towards his bed, where the sheets were still ruffled from the previous night. He probably wasn't in the best position to judge.

"These are pretty good, though," Fred continued. "Did you make them from scratch? It used to take Gunn hours. But these are better."

"Package," Wesley answered dryly, wondering if this was how it was always going to be. She constantly comparing him to Gunn. 

"What kind of files?"

Wesley shrugged. "Legal jazz, I think. Angel wants us down as soon as possible."

Fred immediately hopped up from her seat in mid-bite. "Then we should get down there! It could be an emergency. Maybe he was trying to give us a signal, he could be in real trouble."

Wesley watched her quizzically. "I highly doubt it. I don't think we'd be much use in a fight."

Fred sat down. "Oh, yeah. He'd probably call Gunn or someone."

Wesley clenched his teeth. Fucking Gunn. He tried to smile. "We're only good for the brains of the operation. Reading and researching… developing new scientific products."

"Still," Fred said, between bites. "It could be important. We should hurry down there."

"I like making Angel wait," Wesley said softly, mostly to himself. "It gives him more reason to hate me."

Fred gave him a look, but he was fairly certain she hadn't heard his inner musings. "Did you know you have a torn up dollar bill on your floor?"

Wesley followed her gaze to the dollar that Lilah had shredded and left on the floor. She may as well have attacked his heart with razor blades. Or hers, for that matter. "That's odd."

Fred watched him with mild suspicion. "Wesley… is there something going on?"

Wesley looked into her beautiful face and felt himself melt. He'd do anything for her, he'd do his best to keep her from the darker parts of the world. He wanted to sing to her, read poetry to her, all the things that the mushy romance novels sprouted. He'd never utter the harsh words that he used with Lilah in her presence. 

But perhaps… it wasn't exactly what he wanted anymore.

"Do you love me?" They were both caught off guard by the words. He recovered first, watching her face closely for a reaction. He realized he couldn't proceed until he knew.

Proceed onto what, he wasn't sure.

Fred blushed and stared down at her pancakes. Her hands fluttered about her hair, picked up and twiddled her fork. She looked back up at him, her eyes boring into his.

Wesley gulped. It was taking too long. She was postponing the moment, trying to find a cushion to soften the blow.

"Yes," she whispered. "I love you."

Wesley blinked, taking a minute to let the words sink in. He felt oddly calm. "How long?"

She chewed on a bite of pancake in order to ponder the question. "When you finally kissed me, I knew."

Wesley felt slightly sick. He had everything he wanted. Right in front of him. She was staring at him with her bright eyes and beautiful face. She told him the three words he'd been longing to hear from her lips since the moment he met her.

And he was trying to find a way to turn her down.

Wesley had learned over time that the biggest favour he could give himself was to be internally honest. He was smart enough to know that the love he held for Fred stemmed partly from his hopes of the human race. She was Good, his Good. And Wesley also knew she wasn't perfect. Despite what he longed to believe.

"Fred… I love you. Almost from the first time I lay eyes upon you." It sounded so well-rehearsed and fated. But he remembered her bright eyes. Even after the months of torture in Pylea… her eyes had been bright. "But… we can't ever be anything."

Her eyes widened and it hurt his heart to see them glisten with tears. "I don't… I don't understand."

Frankly, Wesley didn't think he did either. He wasn't all Good, there were shadows in him that we're Evil. Lilah got it. Fred didn't—or couldn't. His love didn't run deep enough to affect a different personality. 

"I think that love wouldn't be quite enough for us, Fred."

She withdrew from the table, her arms hugging her chest. "It's Lilah, isn't it?"

"Fred…"

"Don't lie to me!" she hissed. "There's a candle by your bedside. A wet ring staining your wood table from a wine bottle." She pointed to the wall, "A burned cigarette mark."

He stared at her, horrified by her quick brain but amazed by her brilliance. His head began to twinge painfully. "Lilah is part of it, yes… but she's not everything."

Fred was backing against the door, fumbling behind her for the doorknob. "You never stopped seeing her."

Wesley hit the table with his fist. One of the legs wobbled dangerously. "I can't change what I am for you, Fred."

She found the doorknob, twisted. "Then I don't want you."

The door slammed back into place and Wesley found himself alone. His gaze was drawn to the torn dollar of last night. He couldn't have Fred and he couldn't have Lilah. He wondered, painfully, where that left him.


	3. The Torn Dollar 3

Title: The Torn Dollar 3/3

Author: DollarBill

Email: Goldy05403@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Joss, Joss, and, yet, more Joss. Don't sue.

A/N: Kind of short, kind of to the point, kind of weird. I don't know. It was my first L/W fic and I'm mildly proud of it. I hope you all enjoyed, too!

Dedication: To my lovely Alexis Denisof, you've earned the 'and' spot in the credits! Keep playing Wesley so wonderfully.

A half-hour later, Wesley felt composed enough to walk into Angel's office. The vampire barely looked up as he entered, and concentrated on looking over Fred's shoulder at the documents she was poring over. Fred audibly tensed when he entered, but made no other signs that she acknowledged he was there. 

"Nice of you to join us, Wesley," Angel greeted, his voice betraying his annoyance.

Wesley didn't feel very apologetic. He thought that perhaps Angel had more important things to worry about than a pile of papers from the bosses at Wolfram & Hart. "I was otherwise engaged," he lied.

Angel scowled at him. "Don't be engaged during work hours."

"Don't give me orders."

Angel stared at him for a moment, considered. Letting it rest, he handed him some of the business papers. "What do you think?"

Wesley dug in his pocket for his glasses. It wasn't often that he chose to wear them. He found that contacts made him more intimidating. But during the emotional morning, slipping in his contacts had been the furthest thing from his mind.

He rifled through the papers, noting that there was a suspicious small, black print at the bottom. "Do you have a microscope?"

Angel grunted, obviously feeling that he didn't need to waste any more breath on Wesley than was needed.

Wesley sighed. The whole thing was completely useless. With the technology and money that literally oozed from Wolfram & Hart, they could have imprinted just about anything onto the documents. 

He put the papers down on Angel's desk and slipped off his glasses. Fred trailed a finger down a page and refused to look at him. "Reading these things is a complete and utter waste of time and abilities."

Angel growled softly. "It's important to know what we're getting into. Feel free to leave at any time if the excitement isn't up to your level."

"Angel, Wolfram & Hart could have put anything into these papers. Reading them, with or without a microscope, is not going to do us much good, I'm afraid."

Fred looked up. "He's right," she said quietly.

"Fine," Angel snapped. "Then what do you suggest, Wesley?"

Wesley smiled thinly. "Let me talk to Lilah."

"No."

Wesley rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, you're a 250 year old vampire. Grow up and get Lilah in here."

Angel gave him a cold, calculating look. "Lilah! LILAH!"

Like magic, Lilah opened the door to Angel's office. She leaned against it with a knowing look. "Thought about my offer a bit more, Angel?"

Wesley couldn't help himself. "What offer?"

Lilah's gaze landed on him, like she was seeing him for the first time. "Oh, Wesley, how good to see you again! How was the cosy little breakfast with Fred?"

Fred got up suddenly from the desk. She slammed the papers down and hurried out of the room, elbowing past Lilah on the way out. Lilah watched her curiously. "Was it something that I said?"

Angel looked her up and down. "Wesley wants to talk to you."

"Does he?" she purred. "Talk… that will be something new for us."

Wesley felt himself growing frustrated. Yanking on her arm, he physically dragged her out of the room. Once in the hallway, he willed himself to relax.

Lilah followed him serenely. "Problem, Darling?"

"What was that all about?" Wesley hissed, trying—and failing—to keep the jealous tone out of his voice.

"Oh? You mean, Angel?" Lilah feigned shock. "Don't you know? There's always been something running deeper between Angel and I. An attraction, if you will. I've always wanted him."

Wesley closed his eyes, feeling the headache pound beneath them. "Fred and I didn't do anything."

"Only because she wouldn't touch you."

Wesley flinched. "I turned her down," he said flatly. "Mostly because of you."

Lilah watched him carefully. "What do you want, Wesley?"

Wesley opened his eyes. "I need to know whether or not it's safe to sign those documents."

Lilah's laugh was deep and rich. "And you think I'm going to tell you? Guess again."

Wesley leaned back against the wall, slid down so he could sit. He cradled his head in his arms. "I don't know what to do."

Lilah took a step back. "No. You're getting emotional. You can't get emotional on me, Wesley."

Wesley rubbed his head wearily. "I'm not good enough to be with Fred… and I'm not evil enough to be with you."

"How do you know?"

Wesley looked up at her, his eyes red. "I'm not evil."

"You have it in you," she pressed. "That's why you kept falling in with me. You love being on the edge, you love the danger. You love being with me."

Wesley refused to let her see how much her words effected him. "We can't have a future and I can't… I can't be with Fred, either."

"I love you."

Wesley looked up sharply. "What?" he demanded. "You're not serious."

Lilah shrugged and slid down next to him. "Testing. Just curious to see how those words felt in my mouth… and your reaction, 'I love you.'"

"And?"

"Odd," she admitted. "And you were horrified."

"You can't love."  


"No," she agreed. "Probably not. I care about you, Wesley. Almost as much as I care about myself."

Wesley took in her words. She said the plain and simple truth. No matter how close they got, the only thing Lilah ultimately cared about was her own self-preservation. He leaned his head back against the wall. "Finding your dead body was one of the hardest moments of my entire life. Second only to watching Angel come at me with a pillow."

Lilah smiled thinly and put a hand on his knee. "Don't sign the papers, Wesley. It's like giving your soul to the devil."

He looked into her eyes. "Thanks."

"No problem." She stood, brushed herself off. "But you should have already known that."

Wesley looked off into space. "I think I did."

"I love you," Lilah said again.

He smiled at her. "How do they feel now?"

"Nauseated."

"I love you, too," he tried experimentally. He looked at her helplessly.

Lilah laughed. "If only you were a little more evil."

"If only you were redeemable," he said, softly.

Lilah touched his hand and walked off. He watched her go, a far-away look in his eyes.

He opened the door to Angel's office. The vampire looked up expectantly. "Well?" he demanded.

Wesley glanced at the papers. "They're safe. For once, Wolfram & Hart just needed to close a regular business deal."

Angel watched him suspiciously for a moment before picking up his pen. He signed each of the papers, one by one.

Wesley watched him the whole time. He was damning all their souls to the devil. And he found that, almost to his deep chagrin, he really didn't care. 

After all, Lilah had signed hers away a long time ago.

END


End file.
